


Toot, toot, Tootsie!

by EnterWittyNameHere



Series: The Cannibal and the Canary [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is his own warning, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Female Reader, First Meetings, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Meet-cute? IDK, Mild Gore, No beta-Author will die alone on this hill, Period-Typical Sexism, Possessive Behavior, Short One Shot, Whoo boy here we go again, very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23485126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnterWittyNameHere/pseuds/EnterWittyNameHere
Summary: Didn't anyone ever tell you not to trust tall, dark and handsome strangers? Especially on a night fine as this...In which our dear Reader first meets a certain charming radio host and unknowingly signs away her life on the dotted line.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Series: The Cannibal and the Canary [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689610
Comments: 3
Kudos: 116





	Toot, toot, Tootsie!

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back! This is just a short little glance at a long ago point in time for Reader. I realize she has a little more backstory than usual for an insert-focused piece, but I'm trying to keep her as open as possible to allow for full sinful immersion ;)  
> Title is actually the name of the song I pictured playing on the radio for this scene. This is, as always, posted without a Beta read over. Thank you all for the kind words, kudos and bookmarks on my last work!

The itchy ache in the balls of your feet reminded you just what a long day it had been. And yet here you were, in your overly starched and stained uniform, rushing through closing duties so you could close up the small cafe you worked at, and run home to a hot bath and your bed. You could hear the line cook finishing up in the back; you swept your eyes over the chores you still had yet to get to. You'd be another 30 minutes if not more...you took a brief moment to rest wearily against the counter.

“You'll be alright?” A soft male voice said behind you. The line cook, Daniel, stood halfway out the galley door. He was a short, soft looking man, lined around his kind eyes. He was pleasant and you felt at ease with him.

You smiled softly, “Yeah, I'll be fine honey. You hurry on home to that pretty wife of yours.” You gave him a small wink.

Daniel chuckled and with a nod, turned to leave out the back door. You heard it click, and the sudden quiet prickled the skin at the back of your neck. There had been rumours lately, that the disappearances plaguing New Orleans were the doing of a killer, a man-eater, a beast which rose from the deep bayou itself-

Goosebumps rippled across your skin and you shook your head. Complete nonsense; why, it sounded like something out of one of those picture shows.

Overcome then with a need to ward off the heavy silence, you moved to the kitchen to tune the radio. It took some adjusting, but eventually you landed on a station that was coming in clear, and playing a quick jazz number. Smiling at your luck of finding something on the airwaves still playing despite the hour, you returned to the task at hand. You needed to finish sweeping and mop, and then you'd be able to lock up.

Humming along to the music, you found your hips swaying to the beat, voice climbing until you were vocalizing along to the notes. You were so lost in the moment that you did not notice the towering shadow across the street, or how it moved steadily across the cobblestones, until the figure came to stop just outside the door to the cafe. Tall and willowy, it loomed in the darkness before tapping a knuckle to the window.

You startled slightly, the tapping jolting you back to reality. You turned, broom held out in front of you defensively, to find a man standing on the other side of the glass, a wild grin about his face. He was darker skinned and smartly dressed, white teeth and well polished round spectacles glinting in the moonlight. Your heart stammered uncomfortably, but you moved forward and pointed to the **CLOSED** sign that hung in the front door. The man shook his head, pointed to his ears and then back to you. Frowning slightly, you moved to prop the door open slightly.

“Hello, sweetheart! Terribly sorry to interrupt your honest day's work, but I heard that enchanting melody from down the block and just had to investigate!” His voice was smooth, trans-Atlantic in tone. Something in the back of your mind found it somehow familiar...

“I apologize sir, I didn't realize I had it quite so loud...” You nervously tapped your fingers against the broom now stationed at your side, aware of how your dainty southern drawl sounded compared to his velvety pitch.

“Nonsense my dear! No need to apologize!” The man took another step forward so he was mostly in the doorway.

You caught yourself automatically moving back in order to preserve your space, and the smirk on his face told you he realized it as well. Your stomach knotted, worry blooming in your chest. You cleared your throat slightly as he stood there. He straightened- _when had he started leaning towards you -_ and shook his head with puckish embarrassment.

“It is I who should be apologizing!” He pressed a melodramatic hand to his chest. “Name's Alastor, doll.” He sent you a wink, his brown eyes wide and hinting at mischievousness. He had a wildly charismatic air about him.

You felt your cheeks heat, but managed to stutter your name out. He was bold, considering the late hour and that you were a young woman alone. But there was something about his exuberant nature that made his attention come off as amicable. He gave a nod and bowed slightly; the movement allowed him to fully enter the cafe, and it was with a spark of fear that you realized he was close enough to grab at you if he so wanted to...

“Pardon my continued interest, my dear, but your voice was simply angelic!” He simpered down at you; he was _tall_.

“O-oh, that was nothing.” You murmured.

“Don't be daft, you have quite the talent, and I should know!” He waved his hand about.

The uplifted tone to his voice sparked your memory and a slight gasp escaped your lips, “Wait-I know you!

The man- Alastor -raised a good humoured eyebrow. You blushed at the implication behind your outburst.

“Why, you're the new radio host! I listened to your afternoon show just yesterday, it's wonderful!” The excitement in your voice was clear.

Alastor chuckled softly, hands moving to straight his already-perfect bow-tie, “Glad to hear you like it, sweetheart! I aim to entertain!”

Your stomach knotted again, but this time it was with some new, warm, bubbly feeling that welled up suddenly. Even in the soft light of the late evening, you could see he was quite handsome. He looked out of place in the clean but common ambiance of the quaint cafe; he looked more suited to the alluring draw of some speakeasy in the French Quarter.

Alastor was eyeing you with just as much returned interest. You were certainly a pretty little dish, undeniably young and much too trusting; why, the door hadn't even been locked-

Distantly, the hour chimed, and the growing lateness of the evening seemed to shake you both from your respective thoughts. You offered him a bashful smile and gestured to the floor, “I suppose I should...”

From the radio, Al Jolson began to play; you noticed Alastor shift his weight as the quick jazzy beat filled the air.

“Absolutely, doll! I'll get out your hair soon enough...if you'd perhaps indulge me in a dance first?” He offered a hand, the rakish grin on his face melting away any objections you may have held.

The moment your hand laced with his, he pulled you forward with confidence and soon you were swinging madly around the joint, dustpan and mop abandoned. You weren't sure what you had expected, but Alastor moved with such precise movement and control that you allowed yourself to fully surrender to his strong lead and allowed him to move you about. His large hands held you with just the right pressure and his footsteps were so light you felt as though you were simply floating along in his wake, sore overworked feet long forgotten. A few dizzily tight spins had you smiling brightly, matching the eager grin on his face. You could smell his faint cologne- dark and masculine with leather and wood undertones- the close personal contact helping to maintain the rather fetching blush upon your cheeks. You were sure you made quite the sight; a lowly waitress and a rather fetching dandy, dancing about the empty tables.

The song came to its end much to soon for your liking. You felt the swoop of nervous butterflies as Alastor gently ended the dance by dipping you low and then bringing you back up; your chests bumped slightly, and you were sure your face was on fire. He bowed deeply over your hand before giving you another dashing grin. He then pressed a butterfly-soft kiss to the top of your knuckles, before he stood tall and straightened his coat sleeves and quickly patted down his hair. Your hand tingled from where his lips had touched, and you couldn't help the errant giggle that escaped your lips when he bent and handed you the discarded broom.

“That was just keen, darling. Thank you for the grand entertainment this evening!”

“You're quite the dancer,” You smoothed your dress uniform out of nervous habit. You suddenly hoped you hadn't made too much of a fool of yourself. You hadn't had much experience outside of washing dishes and serving plates.

“Anytime, little songbird, anytime.” He gave you one last curled lip smile, before turning back to the door. He paused as he pushed it open, one long leg forward. “Say, you don't happen to work a lunch shift do you?”

You nipped the inside of your lower lip to stop the silly, giddy smile from showing on your face. You didn't want to come off as some sappy little girl!

“I'm here all day, every day.” You gave a gentle huff, shrugging your shoulders in a rather charming way.

“Excellent! I shall see you soon then, my charming belle.” With another smile and a small wink that set your belly coiling tightly with some new sensation, Alastor stepped out the door and waved as he passed by the front window. Within moments, he had disappeared off into the inky darkness of the night.

You took a moment to lean against the counter, mad giggles bubbling up your throat. At just 19 years old, you had yet to have much experience with men and social conduct. The thought of Alastor returning to see you in this humble cafe made you nearly giddy. Perhaps you'd style your hair a little different tomorrow, just in case he kept his word-

Humming distractedly, you hurried to finish your cleaning and close up. Your tender feet sent shocks of complaints up into your calf muscles, warning you that perhaps such a dazzling display was a bit unwise after a long day on your toes. Nonetheless, you made the short walk home to your little apartment in seemingly no time at all, your mind still very much focused on the the mysterious but all too charming radio host.

When you came in the front door, your sly smile was still on your lips, but you choose to ignore the questioning look from your father as you made your way to your room; the bath would have to wait, as your exhaustion made itself known in the sudden fatigue of your muscles. You quickly changed and readied yourself for the night, trying to keep quiet as your younger sister slumbered in the bed next to yours.

It was only once you were under the covers, your heated face pressed into the cool material of your pillow, did you allow yourself to squeal, hugging the fabric close. You nibbled your bottom lip to try and keep quiet; Abigail was only age 8 and needed her sleep after all. After some time, you drifted off to sleep gently, thinking of how it had felt to be in Alastor's arms even for the briefest of moments.

Far across town, on the edge of the Louisiana swamps, Alastor returned to his humble cabin and promptly changed into clothes that were less impressive. A plain button up and dark, pressed slacks adorned him as he made his way out of his home and to the small lean-to like shed that littered the back edge of the clearing. He stopped just shy of the door and slipped on a pair of black leather gloves. He adjusted his spectacles and flexed his hands, remembering how your fingers had tightened in his as your excitement over your shared dance overcame you. It sent a thrill up his spine and made the hair on the nape of his neck stand at attention. You turned out to be a pleasant distraction on his way home from town this evening-he had only journeyed in for more supplies-how lucky indeed to find you alone and all too naive, practically _asking_ to toyed with. Your voice, airy and sweet in twilight air had caught his attention and held it past his normal disposition.

With a smirk, he briefly mused if you were aware your life had been spared by a simple song and the alluring movement of your body. After all, it had been a while since he'd had a new play-thing, and your trusting nature made you an attractive option. If he were honest, he had been growing bored with his current methods, craving more action and suspense in his hunts. With a burst of energy, Alastor threw open the door to the shed and gazed with rather crazed eyes on the sight before him.

Prone on the floor, pretty in a city-type of way, a blonde dame sat tied and gagged. Her green eyes grew wide as soon as she saw him lurking in the doorway, pupils contracted in fear and her lip trembling despite the cloth in her mouth. With another hum, Alastor moved into the small space and began his work. His skin felt as though it was buzzing with some kind of galvanizing force, and his movements were just as sure and confident as his dance steps.

It took him no time at all, considering his hunting experience, and before long he had worked out some of his frantic energy in his knife work. He would keep the cuts of meat he wanted, the rest of the girl ending up in the murky swamp for the predators to find.

Deep within his mind's eye, Alastor had a sudden vision of you tied and laid out before him; your eyes staring at him with a mixture of fear and reverence, panting harshly and with that soft skin of yours blushing and _bruising_ beneath his palm.

The electrifying chill ran up his spine once more, and his fingertips quivered with the urge to _harm, maim, kill_. You were prettier than the girl he had taken today, younger and more supple. Truly, an even more fitting trophy for someone such as him.

Smiling widely to himself, a dark shadow that hinted at some ghastly creature simmering beneath his cool exterior passed over his face; Alastor decided then and there he would keep you close, and once he had had his fill of your charms, he would slash your throat as wide as his own grin, and he would truly have his fill of you.

**Author's Note:**

> Head-canon Alastor is a little different than what canon gives us. I adore asexual Al, but choose not to portray him as aromantic; he can form and maintain relationships with others, even of intimate means. Just good luck getting past that ego of his to do so! I suppose I may be blurring the lines between demisexual/demiromantic, and certainly do not mean to contribute to asexual/aromantic erasure!  
> I'll be exploring more of Alastor's darker character traits, and dig deeper into their relationship at various stages. 
> 
> As always, if you've made it this far, thank you for sinning with me!


End file.
